


Off the Menu

by tisfan



Series: Imagine Tony and Bucky 2016/2017 [16]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Blood Magic, Blow Jobs, Feeding, Incubus Tony Stark, M/M, Vampire Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-10 06:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10431150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Imagine vampire!Bucky and incubus!Tony. They have a mutual feeding arrangement, but turns out they also like each other. Maybe one of them gets captured and starved and the other has to come to their rescue? angsty h/c and smut please





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quarra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quarra/gifts), [beir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beir/gifts).



> Warning: Blood play and bleeding as part of vampire feeding

Tony sighed, leaning back. His phone was in one hand and he was ruling court over the club, thumbing through the menu options. Menu, the demon-kin equivalent of Grindr or Match, was having trouble finding a match.

The problem with being an older incubus was that he needed, desperately needed, a full Thanksgiving sort of meal, and what he was getting was french fries and cotton candy. He was able to subsist on insubstantial wisps of emotions and cheap sex for most of his twenties and thirties, but now that he was rapidly approaching forty-five, he really needed something to sink his teeth into.

And he wasn’t going to find it in this bar; everyone who’d gathered to the sense of his aura -- even when they didn’t know what he was, his entrancement called -- were twenty-somethings, the same kind that could be seduced easily by money and alcohol. Nibbles.

He flicked the screen again; something… there had to be something.

_Wanted: Exchange_

The man’s face, pale and surrounded by a cloud of dark hair, was gorgeous. Ice-white skin and piercing blue eyes, nearly silver, with a lush, red mouth.

Tony tapped open the profile.

_Revenant seeking exchange: Can provide cash, anima, vitae, or aura in exchange for blood. Clean source only. No boozers, druggies, blood-born diseases._

_Tap to Meet_

_Revenant_. That was an old name for vampire, older than the Accords.

Tony tapped.

His own profile zipped off to the vamp. Simple thing.

_Sex demon requires service. Inquire._

Tony touched his chest, rubbing at the blue crystal embedded in his chest. Sex demon wasn’t entirely what he was; he was human enough to bleed. His incubus was part of him, an unbreakable bond between human and what was, essentially, a magical parasite. JARVIS fed on pure human energy; the sort generated through pleasure. Incubi could feed also from fear, or rage, or despair, but those weren’t flavors that either Tony or JARVIS prefered.

Vampires were human enough; the human blood they drank sustained them, but they had feelings, like any human. Tony could feed from one. Tony could feed one.

Tony shivered. He wasn’t sure about how that would feel; he was used to a certain degree of detachment from his snacks. They wanted a good time and Tony gave them pleasure, sipping off the top of the tidal flow.

_Color me intrigued._

Tony’s phone buzzed.

_Location?_

Tony hesitated, then punched in the name of the club. It was a public space, and he’d not yet met a supernatural creature that he couldn’t trance, if he needed to, from self-defense. And the bounces here were all wyr. Tony’d yet to see a bloodsucker than wouldn’t flee from a wyr. Supernatural claws and teeth were hazardous, even to a vampire’s rapid healing.

***

If Bucky didn’t get a goddamn lickstick soon, he was gonna bite the fuck out of someone and probably have the Paracops called. Again.

He was on the prowl, but it was hard; too many people who would otherwise volunteer for a vampire bite (and the subsequent bite-lethargy that followed it, two days to a week’s worth of muscle ache and exhaustion) wanted to combine it with drugs or booze, and Bucky couldn’t afford that anymore.

Contaminants like that passed through the blood and affected vampires much harder than they did mortals. Bucky was skirting the edge of the Accords as it was, because he had to deep drink from a mortal, and most of the demon-kin who had blood in their veins didn’t want to be tainted by leech bites.

When an incubus responded to his want ad, Bucky wasn’t sure what to think. He’d never known one; incubi and their sister-demons, the succubi were rare. He’d certainly never tasted one. His fangs descended a little at the thought. A sweet wash of venom flowed over his tongue.

If it was a lie, Bucky was going to pin the bastard to the wall and bite him anyway.

He really was that hungry.

And old. It sucked, being a hundred years old, and only in the last twenty years or so, when the Accords had been passed, having to be registered. _Regulated_.

He entered Club Penumbra, his eyes dazzled at first by the lights, sensitive ears assaulted by the music. His mouth watered more, so many bodies packed into such a tight space. He smelled sweat and drugs. Booze and sex. Blood.

A hint of anima, the energy that swirled and surrounded those few supernaturals. His nose identified another vampire, a couple of wyr. The flittering scent of the Unchained. A darkhunter.

A faint taste of brilliant energy. Bucky scented the air like a snake, letting the scents drop onto his tongue. Seeking, directional.

He would have known what the man was in an instant; his aura shone around him like the sun’s corona behind the moon. Silver bright and enticing, promising beyond pleasure. Bucky had to shield his inner eye, and damn near raised a hand to block out the luminous shimmer from blinding him. An incubus stirred lust by his mere presence -- Bucky’d heard rumors of incubi who took jobs in the best sex-houses, and were paid exhorbitantly just to sit inside the house and enhance everything just from their proximity.

He crossed the room without looking at anything -- any _one_ else.

“You’re the incubus?” Not much for a smooth entry, but Bucky was looking to _feed_ , not romance a stranger.

“Tony, yes,” the man said. He stood up, offered a hand. “Nice to meet you…?” Bucky could barely look away from the pulse-point of the man’s throat. The clean skin, sweet-smelling and naked and vulnerable. His teeth ached.

“Bucky.” He was going to go torpid, right there on the spot, or burst into flames, if he didn’t get his mouth on that skin, didn’t sink his fangs in right away. He could barely speak, the need was so great.

“Really? Bucky the vampire,” Tony said, a flash of smile. “I have a standard contract if you --”

“Whatever you want me to sign, I’ll sign,” Bucky said. His palms itched to take the man, shove him against the wall and fucking _drink_ already.

“Wow,” Tony said. “You might even be hungrier than I am.”

“I’m not hungry, I’m thirsty,” Bucky corrected. “An’ if you’re just fuckin’ around with me, I’ll go. Can’t stay in here much longer, not like this.”

“Sit down, then,” Tony said, and dropped back onto the sofa. He gestured at the cluster of groupies he’d acquired and waved at them. “Bye, now.” When they’d scattered, Tony looked at Bucky. “You want to do this the old-fashioned way?”

“No contract,” Bucky said, flat. Hoping he’d interpreted that right.

Tony gestured at the waitress and she pulled a wand from her pocket. With a few gestures -- wage-mages always made magic look so boring, like sweeping the floor, or doing dishes -- she bubbled them. Total privacy; the shield would block sound and sight. Inside the bubble, they could see out, but faded, as if looking through a frost-sparked window.

“Is it all right with you that I’m male?” Tony asked. “If you… I can bring a girl in, so long as I can feed --”

“Do you bleed?”

“Yes.”

“Then fuck me, I don’t care.”

***

It’s just business, Tony thought, desperate.

Business transactions didn’t normally make Tony weak at the knees. Bucky stripped out of his clothes with clinical precision, baring himself without a tease, without provocation.

“I need to drink first,” Bucky said, and his vampiric celerity was obvious with how quickly he divested Tony of his clothes. “I can’t get hard, otherwise.” He spread a towel over the club’s sofa, huge and white. Pristine. It would be splattered, soon enough, with fluids.

Tony sat down on the towel, cotton whirls were soft under his skin. “All you have to do is let me touch you.”

Bucky dropped to his knees and crawled into the cradle of Tony’s legs, spreading his thighs. “Give me your throat.”

Tony lolled his head back and put his hands on Bucky’s shoulder.

He’d never been bitten before. And Tony knew better than to listen to rumor. A vampire’s bite could be painful, like a cut. It could be agony, like having your heart ripped out. It could be an irritant, like a mosquito bite. Gentle as a kiss. Blissful as an orgasm. Depended on the vampire.

Bucky pressed his mouth to Tony’s throat; the lips cool and glass-smooth. The skin under Tony’s hands was disconcertingly cold, even if it rippled with life, he was still room temperature.

Faint traces of lust there, like dust motes. Tony called them. He licked them from the air.

Tony ground his hips against Bucky’s, feeling the slick, hot steel of Bucky’s cock, velvet-smooth moving against his, rubbing, delicious friction. “There, there you are.” The skin under his hand grew warmer, more supple, as Bucky fed, biting down hard. Blood gushed to the wound and Bucky licked it up, each flick of his tongue alive and alight against Tony’s nerves.

And the dust motes became a thin trickle of energy, warm and rich and sweet against Tony’s tongue.  
  
"Fuck, fuck," Bucky murmured. He wrapped his arms around Tony’s shoulders, fingers gripping hard into Tony’s collarbones, pulling himself closer, closer. Nothing between their skin except sweat and desire. The trickle became a deluge. As if he’d touched his mouth to the ocean to drink and there would always be more than he could swallow. Tony choked on it, nearly spit it back out, and then got the feel for the flow, grabbing huge handfuls of energy, devouring them, stuffing himself sick with it.  
  
Tony gasped, his balls drawing tight as he moved, couldn’t think about anything else save the slick heat between them. The energy rushed, each movement of sensual pleasure magnified through his hands on Bucky’s back, swirling, delicious. Tony called it, drawing it in gasping streams of multicolored light into the gem set in his chest, storing the energy there, savouring it. He’d never tasted anything like it, dark and rich and experienced. He didn’t know how he’d ever be able to feed on someone else; all their pale and pitiful emotions would seem like so much ash and dust.  
  
"Bucky," he groaned, the cords in his throat standing out as he strained, fighting to make it last, but there was no resisting it.  
  
Bucky twitched under him, growling. The hands on Tony’s shoulders hooked into claws, each nail dimpling the flesh, not quite breaking skin. Tony pulled back, or tried, startled, but Bucky tightened his grip with bone-bruising strength. Tony shuddered, still wanting, _wanting_ , but recognizing the revenant’s strength that held him could easily in this moment tear him apart. One claw pierced the skin and a trickle of blood drew a red line down Tony’s chest.  
  
Bucky’s cock, rigid, hard, hot, grew longer, thicker, a club of molten iron against Tony’s belly as he released the bite on Tony’s neck to lick and chase that rivulet of blood.  
  
Terror and lust warred within Tony, but it was beyond too late to stop this. He strained, moved. Bucky nipped at his chest, leaving tiny bites, prickling, bringing heightened sensations, peaked awareness. With each bite, he licked to sooth the skin, forcing the vampire venom into the wound.  
  
Tony had heard this, before, but discounted it until now. Vampire venom is what gave the vampire their power over their victims, the bite, at first so painful and draining, turned into greater pleasure. Each time Bucky’s teeth pierced him, Tony arched again. He was hard, so hard, so ready, and his cock was being teased, tortured with impossible, unstoppable pleasure.  
  
He heaved for breath, gasping, the gem in his chest impossibly full and Bucky kept biting him, kept tasting his blood, kept drawing more from him, and more again.  
  
Bucky growled again, and liquid fire gushed over Tony’s belly, dripping down his side. Tony squirmed, helpless, rubbing heat between them, slick and luxurious as oil. Finally, finally, with a rush that blinded him, that rendered him unable to move, unable almost to breathe, Tony came. He screamed against it, throat straining. God, God! He sensed more than felt as the vampire retreated, the unholy prickle of bites faded, leaving pale dimples against his shoulders and chest. With a gentle lashing, Bucky licked over each bite, sweeping them with his tongue, gathering up the last traces of blood, the healing power of his vitae closing the wounds that Tony wouldn’t bleed to death.

JARVIS, within him, so bloated as to be nearly incoherent, was able to give his body ease, replenish the blood that had been lost to a vampire’s ravenous thirst. Tony groaned, tipped his head from side to side, listening to the joints in his neck pop.

“That was… satisfying,” Tony said. He meant more than that; surely there were words for how good he felt, stuffed beyond moving with delicious, pure energy.

“How are you even talking?” Bucky lifted his head, eyes intent. “I fed too much! I took too much, I should --” Panic flittered in Bucky’s gaze.

“I heal quick,” Tony said, tapping the jewel that encased and protected his demon. It was, Tony suddenly realized, the exact same shade of blue as Bucky’s eyes. “JARVIS won’t let anything happen to me.”

“You should need a fucking transfusion!” Bucky looked disgusted with himself. “I’m a menace, I’m a monster, I should --”

“You should relax, sweetheart,” Tony said, stroking Bucky’s hair in lethargic fondness. “I’m all sexed out. You need to lay still and let me bask in the afterglow.”

Bucky was still for a long moment, head pressed against Tony’s chest, listening to the strong heartbeat, the steady rhythm of Tony’s lungs. “How often?”

“How often what?”

“Can I feed on you like that?”

_JARVIS?_

_With the purity of energy we take from this creature? My calculations indicate a thorough feeding of this nature is sustainable once every forty-eight hours would not put too great a strain on your health, although once every seventy-two hours would be better._

“Every couple of days,” Tony said, waving a hand, “so long as I can feed like this. Biological perpetual motion machine.”

Bucky heaved a great sigh. “You’ll want a contract, I suppose, if I ask to make this a longer term activity?”

Tony patted Bucky’s hair, feeling the soft, silky tresses. “No, honey,” Tony said. “Not if you don’t want one. We can have this all the time, if you’ll agree to date me.”

“What?”

“Incubi feed on sexual energy,” Tony explained. “It makes us very attractive as partners, you know. But… we can eat sexual energy. Truth is, we live on _love_. I think I tasted it, in your energy flow. The spark is there, sweetheart. Let’s see if we can fan the flames, what do you say?”

  
Bucky made an effort to stretch, caught Tony’s mouth and kissed him. The venom from his fangs tingled against Tony’s tongue, like liquid starlight. “I say, when can we get started?”


	2. Biting off More than He Can Chew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dating for a few months, Tony has a very special present for his vampire boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with art from Beir

“When was the last time you saw the sun?” Tony asked.

Bucky was laying with his head in Tony’s lap, staring up at the incubus’s perfect face. He was sated in body, full almost to bursting with Tony’s blood. His heart, long since still and cold, ached in a way it really should not have. If it hadn’t been doing that for the last two months, Bucky might have thought something was wrong, but it was normal. For whatever variety of normalcy passed whenever he was in the same room with Tony.

_I’m lookin’ at it right now._

“Uh, jus’ before my birthday, 1945. I wasn’t quite twenty-eight. I’d been lookin’ forward to taking leave, maybe gettin’ back to England for a bit, do some dancin’, court some pretty young thing that took my fancy,” Bucky said. “During the War. Mission went bad, and I was hurt. Bad enough my squad thought I was dead. They never came for me.” He remembered laying in the ice and snow, feeling his life’s blood seep out of his arm. He’d been so cold. So cold. “After th’ sun set, and I thought I was a gonner, for sure, my sire, who’d been driven near to madness, smelling my blood and unable to get to me through the light, came out. Pair of red eyes and teeth, and then…” Bucky shuddered.

“Well, that sucks,” Tony said, then his chest did that particular hiccup that happened whenever he made a pun, even accidentally. “I was hoping for some nice romantic sunset to relive.”

“You are my sun, now,” Bucky told him, earnestly.

“Aw, love you, too, Late Night,” Tony said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Bucky’s forehead. There was always just a hint of flippancy there, whenever Tony told Bucky he was loved. That was fair, really. Loving a monster, a murderer, wasn’t easy. Even now, Bucky was a deadly danger to Tony, if he fed too deep. Bucky was loved, but he was loved with caution. It ached, but it was enough.

Most of the time.

Tony brushed his fingers through Bucky’s tangle of hair. It was ragged and unkempt and there was nothing Bucky could do about it. When he’d fallen, his hair was already too long for military standard, but his commanding officer had overlooked it, and the dozens of uniform violations, and Bucky’s bad temper. Because Bucky had been the best damn sniper available.

Then he’d fallen, and Red Skull had crept out and snatched him away.

He’d kept Bucky a prisoner for months, stuffed in a cold, dank little cave. Kept him alive. Fed off him.

Red Skull couldn’t go out and hunt, even then -- he’d been burned, badly, be a priest in the village where he’d been turned, and his skin had been blasted off his face. It would never heal. But Red Skull hadn’t _turned_ Bucky. He hadn’t wanted a companion. He’d wanted a cow.

By the time Bucky was strong enough to fight back, his hair was long and scruffy, down around his shoulders. He’d had only a few days growth of beard; Red Skull had neatened Bucky up a bit and drove him to town one night, held in thrall to his vampire master. Sent Bucky into a store to get supplies they needed, but that Red Skull couldn’t acquire on his own. Shopkeepers, homes, in that area, they were dotted with crosses, the thresholds blessed with holy water.

In a brief flurry of sanity, Bucky’d added a set wooden knitting needles to the purchase and tucked them into the back of his trousers. Two days later, he’d stabbed Red Skull in the chest.

They’d fought, and both of them had bled. Bucky didn’t know, hadn’t realized… he’d gotten some of Red Skull’s blood in his mouth. He fled from the vampire, ran as far and as fast as he could. Found shelter in a cellar, weak and dizzy.

The night after that, Bucky had died.

And come back, as a vampire.

Which, weirdly, meant that his hair and beard were stuck, right there they’d been the moment he died. He could shave, get a haircut, and the very next night, it would have grown out again. Vampires were truly, frozen, in the moment of their passage from mortal to immortal. Unchanging. Static and stagnate.

“So…” Bucky jerked at the sound of Tony’s voice, having almost drowsed. He couldn’t really sleep anymore, not the way humans slept. What he did during the day wasn’t sleep. But sometimes he could lose track of the world, lost in his own thoughts and memories, which was as close to real sleep and real dreaming as he could have. “What would make you feel safe, against the sun?”

“Uh, nothing?” Bucky answered. “The sun kills us. There’s nothing to be done about that.”

“That’s not entirely true anymore,” Tony said. “Science has come a long way, since you were turned. How much sun will hurt you?”

Bucky sat up. His hand went to his left wrist where he wore a dark, stained leather bracelet. A witch had made it for him, decades ago. He unsnapped it, showing off the livid red line, about the width of his finger. If he left it uncovered for too long, it would start to bleed again. He could die from that wound, and that had happened back in the sixties. “I fell into torpor one night in a barn. When the sun moved over a crack in the wall, I was in its light for no more than a minute.” That had been a terrifying day, spent in sluggish terror, unable to move with anything resembling speed and trying to dodge the spears of sunlight that came through the barn as the sun moved across the sky. He’d ended up cowering in the tiniest corner he could find.

He resnapped the binding in place, then rubbed over it. Just from being uncovered those few seconds, it burned.

“So, only if the sun touches your skin?”

“It hurts my eyes, too, if I look at it, even if the light doesn’t directly reach me,” Bucky said. The sun was so bright, bright like faith. Bright like the heat of a million volcanoes.

“Okay, then,” Tony said. “These are for you.” He handed Bucky a pair of sunglasses. They’d been laying on the table when Bucky came in, but he hadn’t paid them any mind.

“Tony, this… doesn’t work like that.”

“No, it does, it really does, we’ve tested it a few times -- strictly volunteers. Did you know that vampires can regenerate lost limbs?”

Bucky put one hand over his left shoulder. “Yeah, I know.”

“Okay, well, here’s the thing. The reason that the rest of us didn’t know that for a long time is because your body parts will poof in the sun, just like you will,” Tony said, getting excited. “So, you lose a finger in a fight, three days later, your finger’s back, but the old one? Just so much dust in the wind, right? So, we did some testing, and, I’ve invented the first vampire proof sunscreen. Or maybe that should be the first sun proof vampire screen? I don’t know, I don’t name things, I just make them.”

Bucky blinked. “So… what?”

“Put the sunglasses on so you feel more comfortable, Night Rider. We’re going to watch the sun come up.”

Bucky’s heart hadn’t beat in nearly seventy three years. But for just an instant, it felt like his pulse was pounding in his ears. “What?”

“It’s okay,” Tony told him again. “If it gets too scary, you can dive behind the couch and I’ll close the window.”

Bucky wasn’t sure he wouldn’t prefer to start behind the sofa in the first place. He almost wished Tony had brought this up before, so Bucky would have had time to get used to the idea. But that was just cowardice, and maybe a little bit of practicality speaking. Bucky might have talked Tony out of it, entirely, if he’d brought it up before it was an actual thing that could be done.

Bucky reached out and grabbed Tony’s hand; the incubus’s fingers were always warm, so warm, and Bucky had a hard time not snuggling into that heat, so different from his own cold, corpsy skin.

“It’s all right,” Tony soothed him, rubbing his thumb over Bucky’s wrist. The pulse point, if Bucky had still had a pulse. Thin skin, lots of nerves. Bucky shivered. The window shifted. Tony kept them totally blacked out, whenever Bucky was there. Bucky knew a few vamps, really old ones, who could be burned from a particularly strong moon. All moonlight was was reflected sun. Bucky couldn’t imagine being trapped like that, unable to go out of doors except in the gloomiest, wettest nights? Ug. He might have to throw himself into a dawn’s glow, end it all in one flash of agony, if he was so limited.

He squeezed Tony’s fingers. “How does--” his voice failed him for a moment and he had to clear his throat, which was ridiculous. It’s not like his body produced anything so biological as phlegm anymore. “How does it work?”

“It’s a treatment for the window, it filters out the wavelength that makes the sun caustic to you,” Tony told him. “Right now, we’ve only got it working on rigid materials, but we can make a sort of… glass umbrella, really, if you want to go for a walk in the park. Might want to wait on that, though. It’s a little crowded and it would be bad if someone bumped you.”

The sky was as red as blood. The window was unshaded. Open.

Bucky scrambled to get the glasses on, shivering. He felt utterly exposed, more so than he ever had, despite the number of times Tony had stripped him of mere clothes. Here, now, he was defenseless.

Tony didn’t try to downplay Bucky’s fears, didn’t tell him it would be fine. Just held his hand and sat with him.

As they watched the sun come up.

There was a brief moment of exhilarated terror when the first fingernail crescent showed above the horizon, which dropped into a dull buzz of fear until the light creeped across the room. Bucky pulled his feet up onto the sofa, out of the way but then the sunlight was thrown over his knees, across his thighs.

Nothing hurt.

Everything was fine.

Tony wasn’t watching the sun at all. He was watching Bucky’s face.

A few moments into the sunrise, he ran a finger over Bucky’s cheek, smearing wetness. “You’re crying.”

Bucky took the sunglasses off, stared at the sun and he’d never seen anything so perfect and beautiful in his whole life. Until he turned to look at Tony, skin painted with golden rays, a few drops of blood on his fingers, smeared from Bucky’s cheek.

“I love you,” Bucky told him.

Tony leaned in to kiss him, and Bucky suddenly _wanted_ him.

Not the way he usually did, carnal and part of their feeding frenzy. Their lovemaking, until this moment, had involved bites and feeding, the cycle of Tony bringing his passions, his human passions, nearly dead and forgotten, to the front and then letting himself be bitten.

Bucky had no particular desire to bite. He wanted Tony’s skin, wanted his body, wanted his heat, wanted that glitter in those warm brown eyes, wanted the smell of his skin and the lightning jags of sensation over Bucky nerves.

He ended up sprawled over Tony’s willing body, pressing him down into the cushions. He stripped off his shirt, heedless of the sun’s light on him, ignoring it entirely in favor of getting as much of himself and Tony naked as it was possible, until they were laying together, skin to skin. He kissed Tony, touched his mouth, his throat, his collarbone. His fangs didn’t even descend. There was no bloodlust in it at all, no need, no thirst.

“Oh, god damn,” Tony slurred, drunk with it already as Bucky stroked his body, touched every inch of Tony he could get his hands on. “What are you doing?”

“Loving you,” Bucky said, which was only the truth. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Never,” Tony said, his hands closing on Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him even closer. “ _Never_ stop.”

All the world that Bucky knew was lost in Tony’s arms. Everything became Tony, the scent of him, sweet as the air, the touch of his skin. Tony was perfection, utterly alive and brilliant, heart pounding under his skin. Bucky kissed the throbbing vein at his throat, licked it.  Went back to claim Tony’s mouth, thrusting his tongue inside and tasting the sweetness that were Tony’s lips.

Broke free of Tony’s mouth with a gasp, but still couldn’t get enough. He trailed hot, needy kisses down Tony’s throat, across his chest, down, and down, and then--

Tony made a strangled moan of wanting as Bucky licked over his cock, lashing at the velvet skin with his tongue. He glanced up; Tony’s eyes were dark with wanting. Each muscle was lined in golden sunlight. The gem in the middle of his chest pulsed with urgency, in time with his heart.

“You know, the nicest thing--” Tony was saying, because Tony was always talking, practically. Tony sometimes even talked in his sleep “--about you being a vampire. Oh god, is that you don’t… fuuuuuuck, have to breathe.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh against Tony’s wet skin, relishing the deep groan that got, and then demonstrated that particular ability, swallowing Tony’s cock. Made short work of those strangled cries and needy moans. Bucky slid his arms under Tony’s thighs, spread him open and held him down, impaling himself on Tony’s dick, taking it all the way back. Letting Tony fuck up into his mouth with abandon.

Bucky was dead. He’d died seventy years ago in a cave in a country he barely recalled the name of. In Tony’s arms, he lived again. Tony spoke his name in a low, breathless whisper and Bucky’s entire body answered that call, desperate to be one with the man, to be sheathed inside Tony’s heat and to be kept safe, exactly where he belonged.

“Need you,” he told Tony as he pulled off with an obscene, wet sound. “Need you _now_.”

“You have me,” Tony promised. He scrambled around in the deitrus of stuff cluttered on the low coffee table and handed Bucky a vial of lubricant.

They’d fed, late in the evening, and Tony was still loose and pliant, but Bucky took his time anyway, wanting to hear each little sigh and moan. Reveling in the joy of Tony’s body, not for food, not need, but _desire_.

Bucky’s hungry hands brought Tony to a fever pitch, making him arch and writhe and squirm until he was practically crying. “Now, now, now,” Tony demanded. “Enough, stop, I’m ready.”

Bucky settled on the sofa, legs spread wide, seated, and Tony straddled him, lowering himself onto Bucky’s cock, head thrown back. The sun, now well up, backlit him like an angel.

Gentle, despite his ravening need, Bucky stroked Tony’s skin, brought his hands down on Tony’s hips to steady him. Tony rode him, easy and sweet and moved restlessly, _relentlessly_ up and down. Hands pressed firm on Bucky’s chest to balance himself.

Bucky let him set the pace, thrust up as Tony came down, until Tony’s entire body was quivering.

“I… I got you, love,” Bucky told him, and curled one hand around Tony’s length, stroking him in time with their movements. Tony’s thighs quaked and squeezed, and the liquid slide around Bucky’s dick was like nothing he’d ever felt before.

He’d fucked Tony a dozen times or more since they started seeing each other, and it had never been like this.

Tremors ran through Tony’s body, shaking him. He clenched, an exquisite squeeze, and Bucky was gasping for air he didn’t need. Black speckles dancing in his vision, heat pooling in his spine, he felt warm and human and _alive_.

Tony shivered, fighting his orgasm, straining to draw it out, to make it last.

“Come on, let go. I’m here. I’ve got you,” Bucky crooned.

Tony’s hands curled into lustful claws, his fingertips biting against Bucky’s skin as he pulled himself down, kissing Bucky with commanding need.

Bucky gave him everything, and then Tony bit down on Bucky’s lip and the blood flowed from the wound, between them, Tony’s blood, changed inside Bucky’s body, and then, back into Tony.

Everything inside Bucky set on fire, burning, aching, an agony of pleasure.

Bucky came, screaming Tony’s name, everything in him filled to the brim with bliss. Heat and wet bloomed between them as Tony came, spilling himself onto Bucky’s chest and stomach. He collapsed, panting for air, against Bucky, and Bucky soothed him, soothed them both, by petting Tony’s hair and back and…

Tony was sobbing, shaking with pleasure, wracked with excess. There was something… something like a red string between them. Not a real thing, not something he could see with his eyes, but… a spectral thread, pulsing in time to Tony’s heart.

“What… what did you do?” Bucky held his hand up, the thread clinging to it before disappearing like mist in sunlight.

“I… I’m not sure.”

For just an instant, Tony’s eyes flared red as a hunting vampire’s, then went back to their normal, whiskey dark.

It wasn’t there, the red string. Not that Bucky could see it, but… he felt it. Like a brand in his mind.

“What… what did I do?” Bucky wondered.

Tony didn’t have answers for him, and they stared at each other.

“You… you saw that, right?” Bucky demanded, and he touched his mouth where the taste of Tony’s blood lingered.

Tony put a hand over the enchanted gem in his chest. “It was right here,” he said, wonderingly. “Went from me, to you. And then it was gone. Might be nothing.”

“Might be something,” Bucky countered.

Tony didn’t look any different. He didn’t smell any different. Bucky said as much.

Tony got up, slowly, grimacing. He gathered up his clothes. “Let me get cleaned up, and dressed. Make a few calls. Go ahead and torpor, I’ll put the window down so you can… do your vampy-thing.”

Bucky scrambled to his feet. He… _he_ felt different. Normally, this long past sunrise and he would have been in torpor already. He should be slow, sluggish. Barely moving, not indulging in sexual gymnastics on the sofa. And he wasn’t _nearly_ sated. Watching Tony’s bare body moving away, Bucky had the sudden urge to chase him down and bring him to another, shattering climax.

Tony staggered, suddenly, as if Bucky’s surge of energy depleted him, somehow, and Bucky nearly raced across the room to catch him. He got him, right before Tony hit the floor.

“Oh,” Tony said, reaching up and brushing a strand of Bucky’s hair aside. “Oh.”

“What?”

“We’re bonding,” Tony told him. “It’s all right, honey. I’ll… we’ll be okay. Just… need to rest a bit.” Tony’s eyes slid shut. “Let me rest. Then I’ll… I’ll call the Doctor. He… Strange will know what to do.”

Bucky carried Tony to bed, the bedroom’s windows still firmly closed out of respect for Bucky’s vampiric nature. Tucked him into bed, then curled around Tony’s warm, still form. Worries chased each other around Bucky’s brain. Had Tony infected himself with vampirism? What would that do to someone who already served as a host to a demon parasite?

Tony reached out, patted Bucky’s shoulder with one hand, sleepily. “Stop thinking so loud. Sleep.”

And the strangest thing. Bucky was _sleepy_.

He tucked his face against the protective hollow of Tony’s throat, closed his eyes.

And went to sleep for the first time since he’d died.

 

 

 


End file.
